


Kyrie Eleison

by icandrawamoth



Series: Reincarnationverse [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Architect Wedge Antilles, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Married Couple, Mild Hurt/Comfort, News Media, Notre Dame fire, Reincarnation, TV News, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Architect Wedge and his husband, Tycho, watch the news as Notre Dame burns.





	Kyrie Eleison

**Author's Note:**

> I was hit by more Notre Dame feelings when I found out about the fire than I might have expected, so of course I had to write something.

A building Wedge designed burned once, the offices of an electronics company in Kansas City struck by lightning in the middle of the night and lost before enough help could come in the storm. No one was killed or even injured, thankfully, though of course it was a big loss for the company. Wedge hadn’t really known how to feel about it at the time. It wasn’t like that building was really his. He didn’t physically construct it. He’d never even visited. And yet it was something he’d helped create, a little piece of him, and looking at a picture of the smoking ruins taken the next morning had turned his gut.

He knows exactly how he feels now. Perched on the edge of the couch, hands wringing between his knees, as he watches the Cathedral of Notre Dame burn live on CNN, his body is filled with cold horror. It's so different. The office was just a building, the product in it replaceable, the files all backed up offsite. The cathedral...it's more than just stone, glass, and timber. It's history and culture and art. It means so much to so many people.

The coverage keeps cutting away from the flames to interviews of observers. Some are crying. Some are just shocked. Some speak in soft, shaky voices of times they spent inside and will never have again.

Wedge visited himself once. On a business trip to Paris, Tycho accompanying him, they'd stolen a day to themselves and walked the cavernous interior hand in hand. Wedge isn't a religious man, but inside those hallowed walls, in the silence broken only occasionally by whispered voices or a murmur of organ music, lit by candles and rainbow light from the rose windows, it was impossible not feel the centuries, the deeper meaning of the place. It was beautiful, sacred, and it hurts to think that in a few hours, it might all be gone.

There are cries from the TV screen, and the camera jerks up just in time to see the cathedral's spire, completely engulfed in flame, lean perilously to one side before collapsing utterly into the inferno. Wedge cries out along with the other witnesses.

“What is it? What happened?” Tycho had stepped out of the room for just a moment, but he comes running back in.

Wedge points weakly at the screen, wordless for a long moment before he manages to explain, words halting, “The spire.” The footage rolls again, and Wedge gasps at the destruction, his husband echoing the sound as he drops to the couch beside him.

“This is awful,” Tycho says softly, as if he realizes how inadequate the word is.

“It's like watching some apocalyptic movie. I have to keep convincing myself it's actually real. This is really something I'm seeing, happening right now on the other side of the world. The Cathedral of Notre Dame is burning.”

Tycho takes his hand, not seeming to know what to say.

“It's such a shame,” Wedge goes on. “Such a beautiful building and full of so much history.”

“Have they said if there are any casualties?”

“None yet. That's good, anyway. I suppose I shouldn't be focusing on the building itself so much.”

Tycho squeezes his hand. “Focusing on buildings is kind of your job, love. And you're not wrong.” His eyes go back to the screen, and they watch in silence for a few minutes, letting reporters' and witnesses' frantic, disbelieving voices wash over them.

Then the scene changes, a different view of the burning cathedral, across the river. A group of people watch wide-eyed as smoke plumes in the distance and the red light of fire glows in the darkening sky. The onlookers are singing, quiet and solemn.

“Ave Maria,” Tycho identifies the melody. He starts murmuring along, and Wedge, not knowing the words not in English, just listens.

Soon, the view switches again, another part of Paris, another angle of the burning Notre Dame. Wedge looks away. “I want to know what happens, but I don't know how long I can keep watching this.”

“We can change the channel. Check back later.” Tycho gives him a gentle look. “Whether we keep watching or not isn't going to change the outcome.”

“You're right.”

Tycho gives him a little smile. “Maybe a movie?”

Wedge considers. “Would _Hunchback of Notre Dame_ be inappropriate? Might be nice to see a representation of it not on fire.”

“There's fire at the end,” Tycho reminds him.

“Honestly, I might fall asleep before then. It's the emotional roller coaster,” Wedge admits.

“A nap might be good,” Tycho allows. He puts the movie on and returns to the couch with a blanket, coaxing Wedge half into his lap and draping it over them.

Wedge is right. Warm against his husband and with the sounds of the familiar movie a comfort in his ears, he drifts off to sleep before the story is half over. Later, he awakes to Tycho nudging his shoulder gently.

“I just got a news alert,” Tycho explains as Wedge straightens and rubs at his eyes. He holds out his phone. “The fire is under control, and they've managed to save the bell towers and most of the structures.”

“That's good news.” Wedge takes the phone and scrolls through the article. President Macron has already promised to rebuild, and a French billionaire has stepped forward to start off the funding for the project. “Can we turn the news back on?”

The movie is somewhere in the middle of the credits, and Tycho flips back to CNN. The cathedral is still there, of course, but the fire is much smaller now, powerful sprays from multiple fire trucks eagerly tackling it into submission.

Wedge breathes out in relief. He pictures what Notre Dame looked like before, the majesty of when he saw it in person, and compares it to the scorched monument on the screen. At least most of it is still standing.

“There's going to be a lot of rebuilding ahead,” Tycho muses.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. But it can be done.”

“Bet you wish you could help.”

“I do,” Wedge agrees with feeling. “I would fly right over and get to work if I had the skills. Unfortunately, it's not really my type of architecture, though.”

Tycho laughs a little. “You willing to fly? You must really mean it.”

“Yeah.” Wedge gazes at the screen, taking in the displayed numbers of how much the repairs might cost and how long they'll take. “Maybe we'll visit again someday when it's all repaired.”

Tycho finds his hand again. “I'd like that.”


End file.
